A photographic journey of images, inspiration and a little dedication..

25.2.17

Van, Malibu. 2017. M. Doyle

Was sent this article today which I found most interesting and is something I am very familiar with..

What
are the personal realities faced by photographers whose lives depend
upon the creation and development of a successful photography practice?

I
first explored this question in an article of the same title
approximately five years ago. At the time it seemed like a risk to write
and publish a truthful and honest reflection on the emotional, mental
and spiritual realities faced by many photographers for a title
supported by camera manufacturer advertising. However, the article
proved to be the most engaged feature the magazine published in my three
years as its editor, producing powerful letters like this. I now feel compelled to write again about this issue.

Five
years ago I discussed those who succumbed to personal pressures, such
as Diane Arbus, Terence Donovan and Bob Carlos Clarke — I’m sure you
will know of others. Those are the high-profile names, the photographers
whose names have become associated with the saddest of ends to their
careers and lives. There are of course many other photographers whose
names and images are less well known who suffer the same pressures and
stresses as those headline acts but who still need our support,
understanding and empathy.

A
friend of mine, Chris Floyd, has spoken about his belief that it was
the progression from analogue to digital photography and the subsequent
closure of the commercial darkroom that instigated many of the issues of
loneliness photographers face today. I agree with him. The darkroom was
a social space where photographers could meet and interact, where they
could feel part of a creative community. This was essential to a
photographer’s mental well-being, as you could always be sure of a chat
and a coffee, sharing ideas and experiences whether you had work to drop
off or not.

Today
you could make the same argument for a digital printer, but the reality
is that photographers have their work printed far less often than when
they relied on a lab to process their film, and that sense of community
is as a result far less vibrant.

So,
a sense of community is important, and that sense of physical community
has undoubtedly been replaced by the online communities of social
media. There is no need for me to elaborate the positive and negative
aspects of social media, but the reality of online engagement is
individual screen time. It is additional screen time to that spent on
the photographic workflow including research, pre-production, editing,
post-production and the general business of emails, marketing, promotion
and accounting. That’s a lot of screen time, which means a lot of time
alone with no friend other than a plastic mouse by your side.

Isolation can easily lead to depression, and the role of the photographer is increasingly solitary.

Add
to that the inevitable rejections when applying for grants and
bursaries, entering competitions and failing to gain commissions, and it
is no surprise that many photographers find themselves unable to deal
with everything while remaining upbeat and positive.

It
is interesting how many photographers I know have recently taken up
running or cycling. The positive effects of physical exercise when
dealing with depression are well documented, and although none of them
have spoken to me about their mental wellbeing directly, I see a
definite trend developing. It is a trend of self-awareness about mental
health and the need for a positive attitude in order to pursue a career
in photography.

Perhaps
more evidence of this trend is the recent growth of collaborative
projects. Five years ago, I suggested that photographers who were
concerned about poor mental health should explore the support networks
of Cognitive Behaviour Therapy and Mindfulness. Today I would add to
that suggestion the many local collaborative projects instigated by
photographers to stage talks, exhibitions and meet-ups. These
communities share a passion for photography and perhaps most importantly
a desire to share work, knowledge and experience. The photographers who
attend are invariably at different stages of their careers and
therefore invaluable in supporting those struggling with the time
required to become an established photographer.

These
communities are using online communication to promote their projects
and the offline world to deliver them, and that is where the real sense
of community exists. If you don’t have one near you why not set up your
own? Reach out to local photographers and creatives and you will soon
find people willing and able to work with you to establish some form of
project. If you want inspiration look at the incredible success of the
UK based Miniclick Talks
established by architectural photographer Jim Stephenson. It is a
not-for-profit collaborative enterprise which embraces talks,
exhibitions, publishing and one-off events that welcomes all
photographers from student to established professional level. Its
monthly talks have become the fulcrum of the local photographic
community’s existence.

To
this point I have spoken about the physical loneliness that
photographers can feel but there is also the mental loneliness that
needs to be recognised and addressed. In a medium in which two plus two
does not make four, the creation of work to meet your personal or
client’s expectations is mentally challenging. The key word here is
expectation, and failing to meet that expectation can trigger self-doubt
and associated issues of anxiety that can lead to depression.

It
takes a strong sense of purpose, balanced with a willingness to listen
and evolve, to work as a photographer. But even with these qualities if
your expectations are unrealistic or ill-informed they will never be
met. It is this failure to meet expectations that I see most often as
the foundation for mental health issues in photographers. Whenever I am
asked to mentor or advise photographers the first question I always ask
is about their expectations. It is the starting point to understanding
where they are on their journey, and with this knowledge it is possible
to give both informed and honest advice that will allow them to take the
small steps required of the long-distance runner. A career in
photography is not a sprint or perhaps even more accurately a long-jump
based upon a quick run-up. It is a marathon, and one that can be
incredibly rewarding if the correct training, support structures and
precautions are understood and put into place.

There
is a joke that goes like this: “What’s the difference between a
photographer and a large deep pan pizza? The deep pan pizza can feed a
family of four!” Creating a sufficient income from photography is the
hardest aspect of your practice to come to terms with. There are no
shortage of magazine articles and online programmes promising you great
riches based on workflow. I don’t believe any of them and neither should
you. Workflow is not the answer and you should not feel a failure if
the promises made don’t work for you. It is hard to make a living from
photography but it is possible. The twenty first century photographer
must be a master of transferable skills and open to opportunities to
expand and develop their practice in previously unknown environments.
These may include film, moving image, writing, workshops, broadcast and
lecturing. As I have said, the level of your success will be based upon
the level of your expectation, and that expectation can and should be
informed by those who are travelling the same road as you.

That
journey can be a lonely one but it doesn’t have to be. All
photographers experience the same issues, anxiety and setbacks. Just as
they treasure the highs they remember the lows, and sharing this reality
is the beginning of an essential conversation. I am aware that this
conversation must happen without the fear of negative judgement.

I
am positive about the current state of photography, far more positive
than I was five years ago. However, if you are reading this and feeling
that I have highlighted feelings you recognise in yourself, I hope that
some of what I said is of help — especially if you do not share my
current positivity. You are not alone and there are multiple support
structures to reach out to. A career as a professional photographer is
not easy and it is not for everyone. There is no shame in admitting to
yourself and others that you prefer the creation of images free from
industry expectations. The possible realisation that professional
photography is not for you is not to admit defeat but to embrace
success. It is a success that means taking a new road to travel with
photography as your friend rather than your nemesis.

Grant Scott is the founder/curator of United Nations of Photography,a
Senior Lecturer in Editorial and Advertising Photography at the
University of Gloucestershire, a working photographer, and the author of
Professional Photography: The New Global Landscape Explained (Focal
Press 2014) and The Essential Student Guide to Professional Photography
(Focal Press 2015).

Aside from my 'American Vacation' series, 'Vehicular Landscape' is fast becoming my biggest project. Not surprising really as it was my first series shot in colour, however, when the project began it was called Dumped. The image below was the one that started it all, a Lada car dumped on York Way in London and an image which became the first big print I sold.

6.2.17

I was reminded of this image recently by a very good friend whom I shared several trips with to the Salton Sea. Up until then I had completely forgotten about it even though it's been exhibited, published and written about (all be it some time ago).
This particular scene is from my 'Thursdays By The Sea' series made way back in 2004/05 when I was shooting 10/8 film.
20 years prior to this image I made a similar looking shot, in black and white, from a bridge overlooking the railway track near my childhood home. I remember exposing for the light on the rails in order to render the rest of the area black, the same tecnique used here..
I think the original, a bit grainy and printed on Kentmere multi-contrast, fine-matt paper, is in my parents attic..

4.2.17

Sometimes with long term projects there's no real way of knowing which direction they may take. This has very much been the case with my Untold Stories series, LA River.
I knew that by making photographs in and around a dry river bed that sooner or later the rains would come, and they certainly did..
If you can imagine emptying your household rubbish into your bath, I'm thinking plastic bags, clothes, especially underpants, shopping trollys, and perhaps a chair, and then filling it with muddy water. Drain the water. Times all that by 100,000. You might get an idea what the LA River now looks like..
Great for new material. Not so great for the residents of The Hobo Jungle..

3.2.17

It's been four months since I shot any images for my Untold Stories-LA River project.
A large part of the project was shot around the Hobo Jungle (a name I came up with during the summer which you can read about in my Project Diary section), basically an area where homeless people had made make-shift homes for themselves out of view from the public. I had often wondered what would happen to the area if the rains came, afterall it was a dry river bed.. And so after five years of drought the rains did come, and the people fled.
What remains now can only be described as a very big mess..
The ongoing story will be added next week..